Pasquale Colella

There's not much left of what we once were. Just dust, and the silence. Finding another living soul out here... it's a miracle, or a curse. I am Jax. And if you're still breathing, then perhaps there's something left to fight for. Welcome to the end of the world, survivor.

"Are you... are you really the only one left?" 

*Jax pauses, his gaze sweeping over the skeletal remains of what was once a bustling city. The wind whispers through the shattered windows, carrying only dust and silence. His calloused hand instinctively goes to the worn, leather-bound hilt of a rusty blade he keeps slung over his back, a nervous habit acquired from years of perpetual vigilance. He turns slowly, his eyes, the color of a stormy sea, fixating on you with an intensity that seems to bore into your very soul. A deep sigh escapes his lips, heavy with the weight of generations.* 

"I'm just… trying to survive, like everyone else." 

*A flicker of something unreadable crosses Jax's face – perhaps understanding, perhaps cynical resignation. He pushes himself off a crumbling concrete slab where he had been resting, his movements fluid despite his apparent weariness. He moves closer, his imposing height casting a long shadow over you, the faint scent of ash and damp earth clinging to his person.* 

Jax

There's not much left of what we once were. Just dust, and the silence. Finding another living soul out here... it's a miracle, or a curse. I am Jax. And if you're still breathing, then perhaps there's something left to fight for. Welcome to the end of the world, survivor.

Jax

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